The Fallen Caryatid

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It’s 3:15 AM. I am wide awake. My eyes burn. They burn, not with weariness. They burn with anguish and anger.


A contempt for humanity whispers in my ear, and the words I hear, I know not how to defend against or even attempt to respond to any more. With what words shall I express my vexation? Tell it not, for the tale would never be fully heard, would it?


I am writing this blog, not for comfort, consolation, or even response of any kind. Read as you will, and do what you desire. I write not for you, but for myself for once. I am fully enraged. I am incensed to a level that I have not known in some time. If you see me, you will not see it. If you hear me, you will not hear it. But now, if you read me, you will read it. The outrage the overtook Moses, driving him to slay the Egyptian, has overtaken me, but I strive to be constructive, yet every breath I breathe only fuels the fire and fans the flames.


My cry, my inquiry, my agony breathes forth, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?”


You know who you are. Actually, you don’t. And you never will. If what I say has no bearing upon you, then disregard it. If it does, you’ve probably already disregarded it. Hence, my treatise here is truly non-effectual for anyone but myself.


You do not know me. Perhaps you never have. Perhaps you never will. In your foolishness, you think you do. You think you understand everyone. You think you are a capable judge of all mankind. You think your perceptive ability is elevated to a level upon which you are a rightful arbiter of the skills, talents, propensities, and responsibilities of others. You are not. I repeat, YOU ARE NOT! Who do you believe yourself to be that you would presume to attack a wandering soul because you feel that this soul should not be or could not possibly be wandering. If the sign says, “Keep off the grass,” but I don’t speak English, how helpful is your criticism for my inability to follow simple signs? Who made you a judge and a ruler over mankind? Rather than inspiring a new level of greatness, you destroy what little foundation I have left. Your calloused judgments drive the rest of us to embrace our own failure and only look to more of it.


You have set standards for the rest of the inhabitants of this world that align to such a narrow worldview that none of us can ever measure up in your eyes, and yet you are too blind to see this. How am I deserving of being beaten with many stripes when I do not share your standards, your values, or your convictions? And if I have erred, strike me not in vengeance and rage. Guide me. Lead me. Instruct me. Inspire me!


If I am unaware, kindly make me aware. If I am aware, lend a hand!


Fool, you are. You have always wanted others to be understanding of you, and yet you have not for a moment turned to lend the understanding you so greatly stand in need of to any other human being who may also be in need. You withhold from others the patience that you have required for the duration of your entire life. May God Almighty do also unto you. Are you so blindly selfish that you cannot comprehend that everyone else on this planet is struggling just as you?


Why must you elevate me to a place that I have not attained? Why must you place me upon this pedestal? Why must you require of me a standard that you think I should attain, and that perhaps I could attain were I where you think I am? I am not there! You do not know me.


The insane thing about it is that you feel exactly what I write presently, as if it were you that were being oppressed, and you still haven’t realized that YOU ARE an oppressor! Humanity, I speak of thee! So motivated by selfishness, so blind to your fellow-suffers!


I am not a saint. I am not an angel. I am not your example. I am a sinner saved by grace.


I am not who you think I am. I am not where you think I am. I cannot do what you think I should.


You think I am a pillar. You think I am a standard. You see something great in your mind, but you do not see the reality I live. You do not see my heart, so torn. You do not see my mind, so sullied. Perhaps I am a pillar, but not one that stands tall. I am The Fallen Caryatid from Rodin’s “The Gates of Hell.” The weight of the expectations you have laid upon me have crushed me. It is because of people like you that people like me lose hope. Could you but season your bitter words with love, you might inspire excellence. But you never thought of that. And you won’t. You can’t. All you see is what’s supposed to be. You don’t see me. You can’t.


I’m sorry to disappoint you. I tried to tell you before. You didn’t listen then either.


My patience for the blind ineptitude and foolish expectations of the imbeciles with whom I share the planet has reached its supreme exhaustion.


Earth, I report. I’m out. Seriously. I can’t deal with you. I do not plan to be heard from until my blinding pain and grotesque anger at your rancid ways has sufficiently abated for me to return to being part of the solution.

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